POM
by Squeaky2
Summary: This story summarizes my long-felt convictions regarding the inter-relationships between some of the characters in Dragon Ball Z. Let us not ponder the possibilities -- for these, my friends, are cold, hard facts of the human psyche.


Puar giggled to herself. Yamcha had stepped out for a moment to buy some milk, and she knew that this was the moment to strike. Floating towards Yamcha's bedroom, Puar grabbed a sack hidden behind the bathroom door, containing candles, hot oils, and some unmentionables.  
  
Meanwhile, Oolong snickered darkly. Stumbling across Puar's diary had proven to be a most entertaining endeavor. One of the more surprising details he had managed to uncover was an apparently deep-seeded infatuation that Puar held for her "Lord Yamcha." As he lazily flipped through those diary pages, Oolong began to have very mischievous thoughts, indeed. Perhaps it was the pair of women's panties he was wearing, or perhaps it was simply his innate perversion -- but Oolong came to the realization that all he had to do now was to wait.  
  
Humming happily to herself, Puar threw a handful of rose petals across Yamcha's bed, lit some sweet-smelling incense, and shoved the rest of the bag underneath the night stand. She then floated up onto the center of the bed, crossed her legs, and practiced poses. With a gasp, she realized that she was forgetting the most important detail of them all. With a flash and a cloud of smoke, Puar was instantly replaced by a familiar -- if nude -- human.  
  
Oolong choked back laughter as he saw Puar transform into Bulma. The rusty gears in his head began churning away, and putting two and two together, he knew that Puar must be picking this moment to realize her dreams of loving Yamcha. Oolong had no great love for the magical cat, of course ... but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. With hardly a moment's hesitation, Oolong transformed himself into a perfect Yamcha.  
  
Puar took a deep breath to calm her stomach butterflies as Yamcha walked into the room. Taking care to drop her voice an octave, she smiled and tried to make her eyes look as vacant as possible. "Helloooooo, Yamcha," she said seductively.  
"P--Bulma ... It's nice to see you." Oolong was suddenly appreciative for Yamcha's somewhat husky voice.  
"I hope," Puar said, uncrossing her legs, "you don't mind my stopping by."  
"Not at all." Oolong fought to stave off the rush of blood threatening to spill out his nostrils.  
Puar blinked.  
Oolong blinked.  
"So, err ... Yamcha, are we going to ... ?" Puar ventured. She didn't want to be too blunt about it, but Yamcha was taking his sweet time following her lead.  
"Oh!! Right. But first ... do you have ... any ... panties?" Oolong regretted saying it almost as soon as the words left his mouth. His overwhelming urge to receive some token -- a memento of his lay -- betrayed his better-than-average transformation. Of course, Puar didn't wear panties, why would she have any with her, anyway?  
"Yamch ... Th ..." Puar's intuition had sensed something awkward about Yamcha when he first entered the room -- now, it struck her like lightening. "OOLONG!!!! YOU ... YOU ..... YOU BASTARD!!!" Blushing furiously, Puar popped back to her original shape, and floated out of the bedroom at an alarming speed.  
Oolong, mouth gaping, stared after her, too stunned to even change his form.  
  
Before he had a chance to make his exit, a pair of hands suddenly grasped the doorframe. A slim and lengthy leg soon appeared, kicking into the air before the rest of the body followed: Bulma, dressed in a short, see-through pink teddy trimmed with feathery poofs, matching fishnet stockings, and a blinding grin.  
Oolong's jaw hit the floor.  
Bulma sauntered in, and draped herself across (who she assumed was) Yamcha's lap. Looking up into his eyes, Bulma giggled.  
"Still afraid of girls?! I thought you'd gotten over that ... it sure seemed like it last night, anyway, if you know what I mean, eh? Eh??"  
Deciding to play the part of a stupefied desert bandit, Oolong remained still unless directed otherwise. This proved to be a perfectly acceptable path, as Bulma was not the least bit hesitant to strip what little clothing she was wearing and get to work.  
  
Oolong had meant to keep a watchful eye on Yamcha's alarm clock, but with a pair of breasts hanging in front of his face, he had somehow managed to get distracted. Managing to tear his eyes away for one moment, Oolong began to panic. He had roughly fifteen seconds before his form would wear off.  
"Bulma?"  
"Mmmm...nnn.... what? Hhhhgggh."  
"I've-got-to-go-right-now-be-back-later-maybe-see-you." As he blurted out the words, Oolong attempted to roll over so Bulma would no longer be on top of him. Unfortunately, this only resulted in Bulma locking her legs around his back.  
"But, honey, we just..."  
Suddenly, Oolong's face was plunged into Bulma's chest, as his body popped back to its original size, accessorized with his original snout and his original pig ears. Bulma shrieked loudly, and promptly fainted. Oolong ran out of the room at full speed.  
Reconsidering for a moment, Oolong ran back, picked up Bulma's discarded teddy, and dashed out again.  
  
Yamcha placed the fresh carton of milk in the refrigerator and heaved a sigh. The checkout line was longer than he'd anticipated, and Bulma was supposed to have met him here five minutes ago. Shrugging, he figured that she was allowed to be late every now and then herself, and decided to use the time to change into a more comfortable outfit.  
Walking into his room, Yamcha froze. Sprawled on his bed was Bulma, nude, and apparently asleep. Chuckling to himself, Yamcha figured he'd best wake her up.  
Stripping off his bandit-clothes, Yamcha crawled into bed, and began to make love to Bulma, hoping to rouse her gently and pleasantly.  
  
Bulma came to shortly thereafter. Dazed and disgusted, it took her a moment to realize that Yamcha was still above her, grunting and heaving like the pig he was. Her hand drew back and slapped him hard across the face, false nails scratching deep enough to leave a scar.  
"You DIRTY ANIMAL! You PIG!! I SAW you, and you think you can just CHANGE BACK and FIX IT ALL?!!!" Bulma leapt out of bed, and stalked out of the room, furious to the point of tears.  
  
Yamcha winced, dabbing at his cheek. Knowing her usual tendencies, he thought she'd appreciate his romantic endeavor. Heaving a sigh and laying back against his pillows, Yamcha began to think of ways to make it up to her later.  
  
A tentative touch roused him from his deep contemplation. Opening his eyes, he saw Bulma, crouching next to him on the bed. She looked intensely troubled, chewing her lip with brows furrowed.  
Yamcha chuckled. Obviously, she had reconsidered her outburst, and had come back to him on her own. Wrapping her up in his arms, Yamcha began to make love to her anew.  
  
And inwardly, Puar giggled. 


End file.
